A Muddy Little Secret
by invisibleshipper
Summary: We all know that Hermione solved the mystery of the basilisk with a page torn from an old book - but book loving Hermione would never destroy a book, especially an old one. So who did? Something tells me we saw it happen... oneshot


**So this is my take on my absolute favorite fan theory of all time. Also, while writing this, I noticed something. In COS, when Draco calls Hermione a Mudblood for supposedly the first time, she was furious, though she showed absolutely no surprise at the usage of such a horrible and taboo word. I mean, Draco's a jerk, but that's the kind of insult that would be rather surprising to hear, especially if she'd never been called it before. So...was it really the first time he used it in her presence?**

 **I do use the movie as a template, so the dialogue that you recognize is not mine, I'm just borrowing it for the story.**

 **Disclaimer: All thanks to J.K. Rowling - you've given us one hell of a sandbox to play in.**

Draco Malfoy hunched against the heavy wooden door, pressing his ear to the keyhole. If his father caught him doing this the consequences, he knew, would be grave. Draco, however, had no intention of getting caught. Lucius Malfoy had been up to something ever since school ended, and since he would never pass information directly to Draco, the boy knew his only way to find out what his father was doing was to spy on him. After all, spying took cunning, and the Malfoys were nothing if not cunning.

The only problem was, no matter how many years Draco spent with his ear pressed to this particular keyhole, he had yet to find a position that didn't send his legs into a cramping fit after ten minutes. At first he tried to ignore the discomfort, but the ache grew more and more persistent. He gritted his teeth, shifting position as he pressed his ear once more to the keyhole.

"...slip the diary into her school things...open the Chamber of Secrets...basilisk...kill the Mudbloods...Harry Potter."

Draco froze.

He was no bookworm like the Mudblood Granger, but Draco read enough to realize exactly what his father was planning. He was going to open the Chamber of Secrets.

A slow smile spread across the boy's face - this was going to be _interesting_. After a few moments, however, the smile fell.

How was he going to open it though? Was the Heir back? Growing up in a household of Death Eaters, Draco heard things. For example: though he did not know the person's name who had opened the Chamber fifty years ago, he knew what had happened when they had. A monster had been released, and Mudbloods had been hunted. One by one they had been petrified until finally, the monster won, killing one of them and almost forcing the school to close. No one had ever found the Chamber or the monster that slept in within its walls.

It was a tale that fascinated Draco. The idea of a hidden room, a creature as good as invisible that had wreaked so much havoc - he found the tale beautiful. And now it would happen again. What had his father said - a basilisk? Draco didn't know what a basilisk was, but whatever it was, it would be released again, and once again, it would...

 _Kill._

He tried to shove away the unease that settled in his stomach. Death was better than those inferior beings deserved. Blood supremacy would prevail - it must; it was indisputable. Draco knew these things, and he believed them. His kind were better than the Mudbloods, plain and simple.

Yet still, the thought of killing them seemed...wrong, somehow. He thought of Hermione Granger, the only Mudblood he had really interacted with - she was a hideous, insufferable know-it-all, but killing her? It seemed a bit extreme. Much as he hated to admit it, Granger was a genius. She was the only student in their year who had a higher grade than Draco in anything, and she had a better grade than him in _everything_. When his father had found out that a Malfoy was bested in school by a mere Mudblood, he had been beyond angry. Draco now bore the scars of that fury, and he hated her for being the cause of it. He hated her almost as much as he hated Potter, but try as he might, the idea of her being murdered by a faceless monster...it made him sick.

She was his only point of reference - though surely, she had to be an anomaly. Surely most Mudbloods were as stupid as they were inferior, but he had no way to really know.

A small noise behind him made him jump, whirling around in panic. His hand flew to his shoulder, where the scar had barely healed from the last time his father caught him spying (another thing about growing up in a household of Death Eaters; mercy was a laughable concept. Lucius believed in searing Draco's lessons into him - quite literally). But no sooner had he spun around than he breathed out a sigh of relief. The only being in sight was a pathetic little House Elf.

The creature's ears were cocked; it was obviously listening to Lucius, who was still talking, though Draco had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to process anything else. How did Potter fit into this? Draco shrugged, turning back to the elf. He would figure that out later.

He let a cold sneer spread across his face as he glared down at the ragged little figure in front of him. "Well Dobby, " the elf cringed when Draco spoke his name, "I suppose you're here to listen for rats running around in the walls." he tilted his head, pretending to consider this. "Yes, that must be it, because the only other thing you could be listening to is your Master's private conversation, which would be a _bloody stupid_ thing to do." he scowled at the elf, who squeaked out an apology before apparating away.

"Stupid elf, " Draco muttered before going back to his keyhole.

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was packed. It seemed that every witch and wizard in Diagon Alley had crammed themselves into the little shop to see an idiot imposter sing his own praises.

Lucius had had more business to conduct in Knockturn Alley after their stop in Borgin and Burke's, and despite Draco's request to accompany him, Lucius had sent the boy to Flourish and Blotts to wait for him. For twenty minutes now he'd been wandering around the shop aimlessly, occasionally pulling a book from a shelf.

It wasn't a conscious choice. He didn't mean to do it.

Yet he found himself staring down at the bok in his hands: _Serpentine Killers: Creatures of the Darkness_. Of their own accord, his hands flipped to the index, a finger running down the page until his eyes found the word they sought. For the last few weeks, his mind had been consumed with the conversation he had overheard, and he had searched the Manor's library until he had found an ancient tome containing the secret of a basilisk. Now, a different copy of the same book lay open in his hands as he read the page in front of him.

He cursed. This was absurd. His family were Death Eaters - this is what they _did_ , and it was noble and brave and right. This was how the world was meant to be - the Mudbloods were _meant_ to be killed. They were dirt - mud, to be more precise - under the shoes of families like Draco's. He knew all this like he knew the back of his hand.

He looked up, distracted when a black-haired boy with glasses rushed into the shop, looking like he'd just lost a fight with an iron stove. Interested in the fact that his nemesis was in Diagon Alley on the same day as himself, Draco dropped the book back onto the pile he had found it on and turned. He finished climbing the stairs he had been standing on, not stopping until he stood against a railing directly above the group gathered around Lockhart. When a reporter grabbed Potter and shoved him towards the blond man Draco had to bite his tongue to avoid voicing his annoyance and alerting the crowd to his presence. He wasn't ready for them to know he was here yet.

After a few minutes, the crowd began to disperse and Draco decided it was time to have a bit of fun with the Golden Trio. He started back down the stairs, eyes glued to the group of children. Just as he passed the stack of books where lay the information on the basilisk, Granger threw back her head laughing at something the Weasel had said. It probably wasn't even that funny. But she was so full of life, and even though he hated her, the idea of her petrified or dead when he could have stopped it - didn't that amount to murder? And even if it did, it shouldn't bother him. This was what Death Eaters _did_ \- Draco was just getting a head start.

So why was the book open in his hands again? He glanced up at the Trio, then back at the book again. No one would ever know, he reasoned. He could slip it into the Mudblood's bag once the term had started. She was smart enough to take it from there. It wouldn't change anything. He still hated them - _especially_ her. He would never help them again. If and when the Dark Lord returned, Draco would be amongst his most loyal followers. It would be his little secret.

After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching him, Draco tore the page out of the book without giving himself time to rethink. There. It was done.

He felt numb as he realized that what he was going to do would mark him as a traitor in the eyes of many. He _wasn't_ a traitor. Anger - illogical as it was - flared in him as the Golden Trio approached him. If they knew what he was planning, they would try to fit it into their twisted definition of 'noble', claiming that he had some good in him or some other such rot. He felt the need to prove them wrong, even if they would never know.

"Potter!" he called, skipping the last step on the stairs and jumping in front of the Golden Trio. He smirked as they drew back, angry at his mere presence. Well, they weren't the only ones who were angry.

"Famous Harry Potter, " Draco singsonged, loving the flush that spread across the smaller boy's face. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page," he sneered.

He saw it, the anger flashing in Potter's eyes, the way the Weasel's face was beginning to match his hair, the way Granger put a hand on both their arms, silently urging them to just ignore him. That piqued him. He had hoped to get a rise out of her as well, not just her dunderhead friends. What he hadn't been expecting was the little red-haired spitfire that was suddenly in his face.

"Leave him alone!" the little girl bit out.

A slow smile spread across Draco's face as he took in this new development. Though he'd never met the child, he knew by her hair and eyes that she had to be a Weasley. Here she was, stepping up to defend the Boy-Who-Lived, while the bloody idiot was still fumbling for an answer.

"Oh, look, Potter, you got yourself a girlfriend!" he grinned.

Potter was trying to find a response and the girl had turned redder than her hair. The Weasel just looked lost, as usual, while Granger… She looked absolutely livid. Draco raised an eyebrow - was she _jealous_ of Potter and the Weasley girl?

Of course, it was at that precise moment that his father chose to make an appearance, his cane coming down hard on Draco's shoulder as he told him to play nice. It was a hysterical notion coming from Lucius Malfoy. Draco bit his lip to hide the pain in his shoulder as he stepped out of his father's way. While the interaction didn't appear odd to an outsider, Lucius's cane had landed overly hard - a clear message to Draco: they are beneath us. Do _not_ forget that.

Draco turned to put a little distance between himself and his father, only to come face to face with Granger. Her eyebrow was cocked and her arms were folded. He wouldn't put it past her to have caught some of the nuances of that last interaction, and her bloody Gryffindor bleeding heart was probably jumping to conclusions. He could hardly stand to look at her knowing what was coming that year, what he was planning to do. It was so wrong, and he was still feeling that iron urge to compensate for the weakness he had shown by tearing out that book page, by what he intended to do with it.

"Move," he muttered it low enough to not draw the attention of his father, who was subtly feeling Potter out, trying to determine if the boy had any potential of becoming the next Dark Lord. When Granger made it clear that she had no intention of moving out of Draco's way, something snapped in him. How dare she? She was nothing, just a - "Get out of my way, you _filthy little Mudblood_ ," he hissed.

She blanched, her expression making it clear that she knew exactly what that word meant, though she had clearly never actually heard it directed towards her. He moved to pass her, expecting her to shatter now, yell, maybe even start to cry at the insult. But rather than step aside as he brushed past her, she held her ground, causing him to collide roughly with her shoulder. He looked down briefly to be met with a look of anger fiercer than he'd ever seen from her.

"Dick," she hissed back, almost under her breath.

"-Voldemort…" his attention ripped back his father as Potter uttered the forbidden name. His eyebrows had shot up, and a shiver went down his spine. No one spoke that name. _No one_.

His father seemed to share that opinion. He too looked surprised, though he quickly slipped back into his act of smooth nonchalance. "You must be very brave," Lucius drawled lazily "To speak his name. Or very foolish." A sneer crosses his face at the last part.

Speaking of foolish "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Granger spoke up, shooting Draco a brief glare before turning her focus to Lucius.

Draco blinked. Not only was the bitch stupid enough to stand up to his father, she managed to respond to his own insult as well. Her words didn't quite match up with the name he had just called her, but Draco got the message loud and clear: she would not be intimidated by him or his insults, no matter how dirty his shots became. He balled his fists in his robe, glaring at the back of her head.

"And you must be Miss Granger," Lucius looked the girl up and down, his lips curling into a slight snarl as he took in her frizzy hair and defiant expression. "Yes, Draco's told me all about you, and your... _parents_." He said smoothly. " _Muggles_ ," He said the last word in the same tone he would say " _Mudblood_ ", making his message clear.

Granger stiffened even more, and Draco felt a flash of satisfaction as his father unknowingly nailed her with nearly the exact words he had used a mere minute beforehand.

Then Arthur Weasley was there, and he and Lucius launched into a bout of thinly veiled threats and blatant insults. Draco, however, wasn't listening. His father had reached into the Weaselette's cauldron, pulling out a tattered book to wave in Mr. Weasley's face. The entire group was so focused on glaring at the blond man that they missed what he was doing. Draco was the only one watching closely enough to see when Lucius let a tiny book slip down from where it had been hidden in his sleeve as he opened the ratty textbook just far enough to slip the minuscule tome in between it's pages. This accomplished, he dropped the book back into the girl's cauldron. " _Slip the diary into her school things,_ " Draco had heard his father say. So this had to do with the Chamber, with the basilisk. But how?

"I will see you at work," Lucius said to the Weasley patriarch before turning in a whirl of dark robes and exiting the shop. Draco snapped back to reality, ready to follow his father, but unable to forgo one final taunt. He stopped in front of Potter, who was still staring after the wizard who had just left.

"See you at school," Draco said smugly, raising his eyebrows in challenge as the Weasel seemed about to say something. Then he turned, following Lucius out of the shop as his fingers curled tightly around the single sheet of paper shoved deep in his pocket.

 **So what'd you think? Please review- it means so much! This will most likely remain a one-shot unless y'all really want me to keep going - let me know!**

 **Also, just a reminder that this is from Draco's POV, so not everything he thinks is necessarily correct, it's just how he perceives things.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, love to all you wonderful people!**


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